


My Mind Will Always Kill Me

by TrohmansMelodies



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Andy may or may not get hurt, Joe is just really fucking broken, M/M, Suicidal Tendencies, Trohley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrohmansMelodies/pseuds/TrohmansMelodies
Summary: Joe has hit his breaking point.Untreated depression and ignored signs have caused Joseph Trohman to break down in the middle of the night. Andy wakes up to his 19 year old boyfriend crying, and he can't calm him down.





	1. I've Fucked Myself Over

_He always said he was okay._

  
Andy's the one to wake up to soft sniffling and hiccuping at 1am.

Andy's the one to crawl over to Joe, to brush the hair out of Joe's eyes because Joe is so far gone that he can't even will himself to tell Andy to go away.  
Andy's the one to turn on the lamp, watching the light flood the room, seeing Joe's red eyes and wet face and Andy's the one to feel guilty because there's no way that Joe has been sobbing for less than twenty minutes.  
Joe's the one to just curl towards Andy's body, his nose pressed to Andy's neck and they're so close that Andy can hear all the whimpers that Joe's choking back, he can hear the clench of his jaw and the grinding of his teeth because Joe hates crying. He hates it because he feels weak and small and like a baby. He feels helpless and alone and out of control.

 

So he basically feels the same as usual.

  
Joe is just a cesspool of anxiety and depression and too much _fucking_ pride to admit that there's something wrong.

Andy's got him in his arms now, they're sitting up and Joe is heaving because he's crying so hard. Andy desperately wants to call somebody, because he's scared that Joe won't be able to keep going like this.  
They've all tried getting him to talk to someone, and he's technically supposed to be on antidepressants, but he refused to even go and pick up the first prescription from the pharmacy.

  
Andy's running his fingers through the curls at the base of Joe's head, massaging little circles around the ringlets.  
Joe's got Andy's shirt bunched in his fist, clinging to him because Joe never gets to do this. He doesn't let himself cry, he doesn't let himself get this bad, and he doesn't let the guys comfort him like this.

He doesn't understand why he can't let himself do it, because this feels so much better than bottling up incident after incident, storing it all away until he just shatters.  
And he's relishing every moment that Andy's skin is on his, because Andy smells like Old Spice body wash, and it reminds him of being home because it's the same kind that his 16 year old brother uses and their bathroom reeks of it every single day.

  
He's let it go too far this time, and he can't even hear Andy over the sound of the voice in his head, criticizing him and mocking him for breaking down, and he _does_ break down more than the guys will ever know. He’ll lock himself in the bathroom of shitty gas stations, tears trickling down his cheeks and his nose running because he told Pete that he felt sick and wanted to just pull over for a little bit.  
Because he can't bear to be in front of his best friends like this. This inner monologue in his head is spitting out _pathetic_ and _stupid_ and so many other things.  
Before he knows it, he can hear Patrick and Andy talking outside the door, because they both think that he's gotten sick and they're worried.  
He hates that they're worried, because he's convinced himself that he's so insignificant in any of their lives, that he could just go home and they wouldn't care. He's convinced that the voice is right.

_I’m pathetic._   
_I’m stupid._   
_I’m not good enough._

And then Andy is yelling, snapping him back into the present. He's back in the hotel room, in his bed, in Andy's arms, and Andy is _angry_.  
Andy is grabbing Joe's face, his fingers fitting over his jaw, and he's saying something that Joe still can't hear.

He's picking up pieces now, but it's still being drowned out.

“...at me. _Joe_ , look..”

Andy is angry and yelling at Joe, and all Joe can do is sputter out a string of _I'm sorry_ and _please don't be angry_. His eyes are screwed shut, and he's trying to push Andy away because now Andy is angry. Andy is angry at Joe, Joe has fucked up _yet again,_ and now the smell of the Old Spice body wash is making him sick.

Joe is kicking his legs under the sheets, trying to back away from Andy, and Andy is hooking his hand under Joe's thigh and pulling him closer. Joe can feel Andy's calves on the outsides of his thighs, and he's pinned Joe's shoulders down with his hands and Joe is still thrashing as much as he can but Andy is stronger than him by far.

Andy isn't new to this. Andy's had to pin Pete down like this before, because he's sitting on the roof of his house and he's not thinking and he's suddenly peering over the edge, inches away from falling three stories onto his driveway.

_But this is different._

Joe is so much smaller than Pete, more frail and panicked. Joe has no idea what he's even doing, caught in the midst of the meltdown in his head. Andy shouldn't need to do this.

But Andy doesn't have a choice.

  
He knows that Joe will book it out the door and run for as long as he possibly can, because Joe hates confrontation. He’ll keep going until his lungs are burning and his stomach is cramping up and he'll keep going until he collapses.

Joe's trying to push Andy off of him, his hands firm and pushing his stomach, and Andy's nearly losing the struggle. Pete was easy to pin down, he didn't have a lot of physical fight in him, but Joe was being fuelled by instinct. Andy's just yelling his name, trying to get his attention somehow.

 

_**Crack**_.

 

And then he stops. 

 

Joe can feel Andy's elbow slam into his chest, and now it's Andy that's whimpering.

Andy's stopped speaking, and he's sucking in shallow breaths as his head hangs just inches away from Joe's face. Joe finally manages to register the alarming angle that Andy's rib is on, and he can feel it shifting under his palm.

Joe just broke Andy's rib.


	2. Dragged You Down

Joe just wants everything to stop.

He wants to go back and just stop everything. He wants to stop himself from breaking down, stop himself from meeting Andy, and just stop everything from ever happening.  
Because now, Andy is crying on top of Joe, because Joe couldn't calm the fuck down, and Joe ended up hurting Andy.

_He hurt Andy_.

Joe's tongue keeps lisping over each and every _I'm so sorry_ , _baby_. Joe tries sitting up with Andy, but the moment he moves his hand, Andy is crying out and shaking and a terrified _stop, **please**_ is leaving his lips.

And this is Joe's fault.  
This is all his fault.

Joe is brushing Andy's bangs out of his face, his one hand still applying pressure to Andy's rib because he can't bear to hear Andy hurt.  
And Joe is panicking, Joe is panicking because he broke Andy's rib and Andy is crying and he can't get it through his head fast enough.

He can't think.

And then Patrick is rushing in with Pete in tow.

He just wants them to take care of Andy, to take Andy to the hospital, and to take Andy the fuck away from him.

But it isn't that easy.

Pete's climbing onto the bed and Andy is wincing against Joe's body and Joe wants to cry because he can hear the guttural, harsh gasp from Andy.

Joe suddenly finds his voice, and he's nearly screaming for Pete to stop moving. His hoarse voice is pleading _stop it, stop, he's hurt, stop it._ He doesn't care how distraught he sounds anymore, because Pete does as he's told.

And suddenly, they can all hear Andy's breathing. They can hear how unstable and shaky it is, Joe can hear how he's forcing each breath down his throat, because he _has_ to.

Joe is forcing his body still, because the more he moves, the more he hurts Andy.

Pete’s speaking, but it doesn't matter what he's saying because all Joe can say is

_I broke his rib._

_**I broke his rib.** _

_** I broke his rib. ** _

It's barely two seconds before Pete is arguing with Patrick because _we can't fucking **afford** an ambulance_ and Andy is still shaking over Joe, and Joe is just repeating _I'm so sorry_ and _I didn't mean to_ and _I love you_ over and over to Andy.

And Andy isn't telling him that it's okay, because it's not okay.

But Andy is slowly just laying down on Joe's chest, choking back whimpers as he lowers his body down. If he can lay on Joe's chest, he’ll hopefully be able to roll onto his back. He _needs_ to lay down, because his head is spinning and he can't breathe and the pain is _too much_.

Andy is whispering to him  
 _On my back._

Joe gets the memo, helping him as much as possible as Pete and Patrick fight. Joe focuses on keeping his left hand as still on Andy, and his right arm wraps around his back.  
It could've gone a lot smoother, but Andy is basically 130 pounds of pure muscle, and Joe isn't strong.

But they manage, and suddenly Joe's face is inches away from Andy's, and his hand hasn't moved but he can see Andy's face now.

Joe can see the damage he's done.

Andy’s got a bruise blossoming over his cheekbone, and there's dried blood in his nostrils and Joe is _such a fucking idiot._

Andy knows how scared Joe is, because he's watching Joe's wide, teary eyes dart all over the place. He's watching the tears well up, watching his lip quiver, and he's watching him because he can't do anything else.

Andy knows that Joe will _never_ let himself be over this, he knows that he's gonna blame himself even though it's not entirely his fault.

Because Joe _didn't_ break Andy's rib. Andy's rib was _already_ fractured. Because Andy has had _three_ previously cracked ribs for the past _six_ months. There's no way that Joe could have fully broken it if it wasn't already damaged.

_It's not your fault. I promise, it's not your fault._

And then his vision goes black.


End file.
